by Anne Tibbets
“Damn,” Tym said.
We turned another sharp corner and kept going.
My lungs stung as I forced my aching legs to keep up. Tym dragged me along, the whole while cursing under his breath and formulating escape plans.
“Nope, can’t go that way, they’ll have that exit covered. Damn! All right, let’s try this. Hell!”
When we reached a chain link fence, he opened a hole held together with twisty ties and shoved me through, then jammed his body through on all fours. On the opposite side of the fence we ran down the block of old empty factories, then turned a corner and found ourselves in the middle of a fish market.
Booths of rotting fish stank the block to high heaven. I immediately gagged, but since I’d already thrown up all the food in my stomach, it was only bile. Tym saw me choke but didn’t slow down. He pulled me along. I kept my other hand over my nose to keep from gagging again.
There were no cars on the block, only booths and a throng of people. There must have been hundreds, all packed together. The crowd shouted, haggled and fought with one another. It was bedlam.
“Keep your head down,” Tym said.
I pulled the collar up on my army jacket then covered my nose again, choking on the stench. I blindly allowed Tym to lead me through the crowd, but my legs shook with adrenaline and fear and I stumbled.
I couldn’t understand why people were buying the rotted fish, but the street was packed with customers. Old women lugging baskets, young mothers trailing toddlers, men with bloody aprons. We bumped and pushed through them like a bulldozer. Tym didn’t even bother to apologize as he shoved people out of the way.
“Don’t look up,” he said. “When we reach the end of the street, up and to the right there’s a big black-glass building. It’s on the corner of 22nd and H.”
“Okay.”
“The bridge is on the other side of that building, okay? 22nd and I.”
“Okay.”
“Sonya and Doc will meet you under it.” He tugged my hand and choked on the words. “If neither one of them shows up, you come back here to this street and you talk to Eron. You hear me? Eron.”
“He sells fish?” I asked.
“This isn’t a fish market,” Tym said. “It’s just a front for the black market. Now, what’s the guy’s name I told you?”
“Eron.”
Why was he telling me this? Wasn’t he coming with me? My throat clenched.
“Right. He’s an old friend. He’ll get you out of Central.” He shoved an old man out of the way. A woman screamed.
It seemed to me we were drawing attention to ourselves. “Tym?”
His words were rash and fierce. “Don’t look up! Don’t let anyone see you!”
“Okay! Okay!”
“We’re almost to the end of the street. When I say run, run. And no matter what you hear, you run to that bridge and you don’t stop. Okay?” He fought back tears. His breathing was rasping and harsh.
Run without him? What did he mean? “Tym?”
“You don’t stop, you understand?” He coughed on a sob, ran the back of his hand across his eyes and yanked me through the crowd.
“But, Tym—” He was sweating profusely and huffing in fast gasps.
“All right, here we go,” he said.
I looked up.
At the end of the street there was a security squad car coming to a stop. I instinctively slowed, but Tym pulled me along. I glanced behind us and saw two squad cars parked where we had entered the market. The guards were making their way through the crowd, headed right toward us.
We were trapped.
I tried to stop, but Tym wouldn’t let go of my hand and moved us forward.
“What about through one of the shops?” I suggested.
“The shop keepers would shoot us dead in a second. You ready?” Tym barked. We were feet from the edge of the market.
“Does it matter?”
When we reached the end of the block, I checked the streets signs. We were at 25th and E. Tym pulled me onto the sidewalk and we strolled in the opposite direction of the security guard, who was pressing his finger to his ear and talking.
“Head down,” Tym snarled.
I pulled my eyes from Tym’s flushed face and put my head down, nearly falling over my own feet, trying to keep up with his feverish pace. I peered up and to the right and sure enough, there was a big black-glass building.
Tym saw me notice and gave a sad nod. He then peeked behind at where the guard had been. “Shit,” he whispered.
“Stop!” the guard yelled.
Tym let go of my hand and shoved me forward. “Run!”
I tripped. My face hit the sidewalk. The winded knocked out of me, Tym helped me scramble to my feet. I stumbled to a run.
I could hear Tym running behind me, gasping for air. He surely could have run faster but stayed in back. His boots slapped the pavement with heavy clunks.
“Stop!” the guard shouted again.
There was a sharp and loud pop.
Tym wasn’t running behind me anymore.
I turned back. He was on the ground. I slowed, but he screamed at me.
“Run! Run! Run!” His glasses had broken from the fall and dangled from his face. He looked petrified. When I looked up, the security guard had a gun aimed right at my head. Our eyes locked for just a second before I turned away.
I ran.
Oh my God, I just left Tym!
Go back!
Go back!
But I kept running.
Tym was screaming at me to keep going.
Like the biggest chicken shit in the world, I ran.
I heard another pop, and a sob erupted from my lips.
I expected to feel the bullet pierce my back but it didn’t. The sound was behind me.
Tym!
He wasn’t yelling for me to run anymore.
My feet didn’t slow. They moved without my consent. Panic and terror pushed me onward.
My arms pumped and with a burst of speed, I whipped around the corner onto Avenue F and ran toward the big black-glass building. It was a few blocks ahead of me and two blocks south. The canteen slapped my hip as I ran.
Up ahead, on 24th, rows and rows of cabs lined the curbs looking for work. I crossed the street in between them and ignored their honking.
Sobs clogged my throat.
On the opposite side of the street, people filled the sidewalk on the left, and piles of trash were on the right. I assimilated into the crowd without missing a step. I slowed to a fast walk and wiped my wet face with the back of my gloved hands.
Tym.
My heart beat so fast it hurt.
I shook violently but didn’t lessen my pace.
Oh my God, Tym.
He’d known. When he was telling me no matter what I heard to keep running. He knew. We were surrounded. That was it.
But the guard. He’d had a clear shot of me and he hadn’t taken it.
Why?
Why’d they let me go?
The sirens had stopped. I glanced around at both ends of the block, and no security cars were in sight.
The guards should be out in force to capture me. I was the whole reason they’d been in headquarters to begin with! It was my fault. Yet somehow, I’d gotten away and everyone else had gotten captured. Or killed.
Oh God, Tym.
And Sonya.
And Doc.
What a nightmare.
I wanted to wake up and unlive this moment, but reality forced me to keep moving.
I turned down 22nd.
As I approached, I realized that the big black building was a bank. I skirted past the bank guards on the opposite side of the street, then no
ticed a road bridge, which took traffic over a drainage ditch. There was a chain link fence around it, which I climbed over.
On the other side there was a steep cement slope that led to the dry ditch. Through the cloudy air, I saw a motorcycle under the bridge and what appeared to be Doc pacing back and forth.
As I approached, the clouds faded, and he saw me. His face rose, and then fell once he realized I was alone.
I think mine did the same when I noticed Sonya wasn’t there either.
Doc wrung his hands then combed them through his hair so hard I was sure he could have pulled some out. He was as pale as ice. “Tym?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I heard shots.”
His face fell further, if that was even possible. He choked back a sob and coughed at the effort. “I don’t know what happened to Sonya,” he said, and sniffed. His green eyes were bright headlights.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, not bothering to hide my tears. “It’s my fault.”
Doc shook his head. “We all knew what we were doing.”
“But if it wasn’t for me...” I protested.
“Stop, just stop it,” he said. He buried his face in his hands.
My heart moved without my mind’s permission. I crossed to him and swept his body into mine—wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his and touching my cheek to his face.
He melted into my embrace.
His arms encircled me and his hands wrapped around my back. He buried his face into my neck.
We held each other as he fought for control of his emotions. Even in the cool, cloudy air, his body was liquid lava.
When at last his breathing became slow and smooth, our faces parted.
We stared at each other, our lips practically touching.
My heart thumped so loudly in my chest I was certain he could feel it.
“Naya,” he whispered.
With effort, I pulled away and took a step back. He weighed my every move with hawklike precision, waiting for my reaction. His arms hung limply from his body and he was breathing hard.
It took a moment, but I realized I was breathing hard too.
He seemed just as scared of what I might do as I was.
I stood there.
Stupefied.
Eventually, after I didn’t have a mental breakdown, he broke eye contact and walked to the motorcycle. He sat on it, kicked up the stand and turned the key. “Come on.”
I climbed on behind him.
I didn’t know what to say.
“You’d better start calling me Ric,” he said, and he pulled the bike through the tunnel under the bridge and rode around to an archway leading back onto the boulevard.
We zipped along between cabs. I buried my face in his back.
I didn’t know where we were going.
Chapter Fifteen
We arrived at Anj’s brownstone midafternoon. The sun had burned away the morning clouds, and all that was left was a red-hot sun in the sky. It baked the piles of refuse on every inch of Central.
Anj didn’t seem to notice the stench or the heat. She burst from the brownstone and flung her arms around Ric’s shoulders before we were even off the bike. I had to let go of his waist and get out of the way in a hurry, or else get clocked in the head.
“They sent out a declaration not thirty seconds ago!” She sobbed into Ric’s neck, and we awkwardly slid off the motorcycle.
“Okay, okay.” He patted then released her, taking her by the arms and leading her back indoors.
“They called Tym a terrorist. A terrorist!”
“Shh.”
I followed behind.
Ric let go of Anj and closed and bolted the door behind us.
I was surprised to see the inside of the dumpy building was actually quite fancy. It was a clean townhouse with polished floors and thick area rugs. On the table in the foyer were digital frames with photographs flashing in them. One was of two little boys and a girl standing in front of a colossal house with rolling green grass and a water fountain. The kids looked oddly familiar.
“What are we going to do?” Anj sobbed, near hysterics.
“Listen to me!” Ric shouted.
This seemed to temporarily shut her up.
“The travel orders, you still have them?” he asked her, his voice back to its normal decibel.
“Yes.”
“Go get them. Both of them,” Ric said.
“Both? But...”
“Just go get them!”
Anj’s jaw clenched and she flushed red. “Where are you going? You’re not going with her, are you?”
“I’m not certain her prints got washed. They pulled the data box with eleven seconds left.”
“Then give her her orders, drop her off at the border and come back. They don’t know you were involved. They may never know!” She was crying again. “You don’t have to disappear. You don’t!”
He shook his head. “We don’t know that for sure. There are larger things at play here. There’s something big going on, and I want to find out what it is.”
“Oh, Ric!” Anj whipped around on her heel and stormed off down the hall, I assumed to get the travel orders.
He turned to me then and apologetically shrugged. “She means well.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “You can just drop me off, like she said. I get it.”
Ric eyed me curiously, and then crossed his arms across his chest. “Is that what you want?”
“No, I just...” My face grew hot as I flustered. Things were happening so fast. Still, I knew that if he had a chance to escape, I didn’t want him to give it up on my account. There had been too much death and pain already. “If you want to stay, with her...I get it. I’ll take the motorcycle or something.”
He crossed the foyer and stood in front of me. “No. I’m not leaving you until you’re safe.”
Anj appeared behind us, holding two small tablets. Her face darkened at seeing Ric and me standing so close together. “Oh, I see,” she said.
Ric backed away, apparently not wanting to give her the wrong idea.
Anj handed him the tablets. She was all business now, her face flat. “Where are you going?”
“Is Charle in town?” he asked her.
“Some conference in East, I think.”
“I’ll stay at the estate until I can figure out our next move,” Ric said.
Anj frowned. “I still think this is a mistake.”
He pocketed the tablets and then hugged her quickly. “I know.”
She looked at me then. It could have been my imagination, but I thought she didn’t seem as mad as before. “Take care of each other. Contact me when you can.”
“We will.” Ric turned toward the door, and I followed behind. As I passed the digital frames on the table in the foyer, another picture flashed across one of the screens. It was the three kids again. Only this time, they were someplace else and a little older. I recognized one of them.
“Wait,” I said, stopping midstep. “Is that you?”
Ric followed my eyes to the frame. “Yeah.”
This took me off guard, because my question had been directed toward Anj.
“I was ten in that picture, I think,” he continued.
I laughed, realizing my stupidity for having not figured it out before.
Ric and Anj seemed bewildered.
“I know. He was odd-looking, wasn’t he?” Anj asked, a small smile etched on her lips.
I tried to see pieces of Ric in the child’s face but couldn’t. The other kid, the eldest boy, had thick glasses and a pearly wide smile. “I’d say he was the odd-looking one.”
Ric’s light expression hardened and he walked forward, unbolting the door a
nd swinging it open. “That’s Charle.”
I wasn’t sure why the mood had shifted so swiftly, but I figured it was best left to another time. Anj followed us to the door and kissed her brother on the cheek as he exited.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” She grimaced and choked back tears.
Out on the curb, Ric straddled the motorcycle and kicked up the stand. “Don’t worry.”
I got on behind him and took hold of his waist, but didn’t say anything as we pulled away.
Anj had been speaking to me.
* * *
We rode for hours. I had always known Central was the largest sector, but I hadn’t realized just how big it was until I was driving through to leave. Traffic didn’t help, but for the most part, we just rode on street after street—much of it the same.
I was emotionally and physically exhausted, and starved. Ric had insisted we couldn’t wait to leave, or stop to eat. The travel orders had to be used before Auberge decided to close the borders, if they hadn’t already, and it was too late to take the train.
Finally, at sundown, we arrived at the checkpoint on 25th and Avenue Z. Mobile trailers parked along the gate were equipped with large spotlights, which blanketed the area with piercing brightness.
Ric stopped the bike behind a row of waiting vehicles. He tilted it to one side, holding it up on one leg, and reached into his satchel to hand me a tablet. “You ready, Natalia?”
“Sure.”
“If they ask your business, say you’re a maid for the Bennett estate and I’m taking you to your new job in South. The employment agreement is in the Menu if they ask to see it.”
“A maid?”
He gave a swift shrug. “Only until we figure out if the worm worked.”
“Okay.” I handled the tablet as if it were explosive.
We moved farther up in the waiting line. Ric adjusted his satchel, pulling it off from around his shoulders and stuffing it into his lap for easier access.